


Somnolent Soldier

by distantstarlight



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 07:57:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2574056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distantstarlight/pseuds/distantstarlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has a particular talent</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somnolent Soldier

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt "John gets tired a lot and takes a nap where he is"

John Watson was a soldier and an invaluable assistant for Sherlock who had learned the hard way that doing things with John was always preferable to doing things without John. For instance, it had been months since Sherlock had been stabbed last, and ages since anyone had landed a punch on his jaw because he had 169 centimeters of condensed fury protecting him.

Sherlock strode over the scene while John took his place at the entrance to the alley, eyeing everyone suspiciously and generally being a threat to anyone who might disturb Sherlock while he was taking everything in. Sherlock found this tactic to be highly agreeable since John was an impassable obstacle, especially for irritants like Donovan and Anderson both of whom were now having a whispered argument with the small soldier, “It’s our crime scene!”

“No it’s not. It’s Sherlock’s and if you’re lucky he’ll have this all buttoned up in no time, look he’s done now. Go ahead and wreck whatever you’d like to now.” John stood there glaring pugnaciously at both Yarders until Sherlock swept past them all. John merely fell into position behind the detective and followed him unquestioningly into a taxi. Sherlock needed to go to a particular bookstore to examine their special collection, a quick call to the owner, the redemption of yet another one of Sherlock’s endless list of favors and they were locked in for the night.

Sherlock sat at a long table surrounded by stacks of books as he searched for the connections he knew were there and heard a small snore. He looked up and his eyebrows climbed as he took in John. The small man had fallen asleep on a hard wide chair but somehow had twisted himself around so his legs were draped over the high back while his back was on the seat and his head was hanging off the edge. He seemed perfectly comfortable so Sherlock shook his head and let the soldier be.

The next time they were on a case Sherlock had been on the move day and night for the better part of a week and John came with him every moment he didn’t need to be at work. It exhausted the older man but he never complained, faithfully following Sherlock from place to place and resting when he got a chance. Sherlock was intrigued and everyone else amazed. Lestrade found them on a stakeout once and John had wedged himself between two stacks of pallets in a boxing factory and was sleeping mostly upright if a bit crumpled in places. He seemed perfectly at ease, “Doesn’t that bother him?” asked the DI softly.

“It doesn’t seem to.” said Sherlock absently going over the evidence Lestrade had brought to him. Once their suspect was spotted Sherlock woke John with a tug on his sleeve and they were off, John totally awake and even more dangerous than normal for the lack of caffeine in his life.

After that there was a case out in the country, they were in the woods and John found himself a low branch off an old tree to curl up in, much like a wildcat. He was so adorable Sherlock argued with himself for a moment but then carefully caught a snap of the sleeping man with his arm curled around the branch and a tiny bit of drool in the corner of his mouth. Promising himself that no one would ever see them, Sherlock decided to catalogue John’s curious ability to sleep pretty much anywhere.

During the case of Wallet that Wasn’t John slept on a fire-escape ladder, woven in and out of the bars precariously but still managing to get a good thirty minutes in before the electrified flood beneath them ebbed away and they could escape. After that was the Tree of Forever, and John slept in a greenhouse between flats of kale and petunias, nestled on a bed of woodchips. One a particularly rainy night John slept in a damp alley, perfectly dry under the small shelter he’d made out of Sherlock’s Belstaff and scrap piece of wood. Sherlock was wearing John’s coat and pacing around, ignoring the wet as he waited for his suspect to corroborate Sherlock’s theories. Donovan had given him a bit of a look for that one when she showed up for the arrest an hour later, a very energetic John nearly bouncing off the alley walls in an adrenaline rush brought on by being woken up by the suspect trying to strangle Sherlock. Said suspect was now being revived by the ambulance crew and being prepared for arrest. Sherlock decided to spoil John and got him his favorite take-away. John was happy and so was Sherlock.

It was almost odd to see John take a nap on the sofa, stretched out and relaxed his head on the Union Jack pillow. Sherlock rather enjoyed the soft snore John had, it was discrete and had a regular cadence to it that was actually very relaxing to listen to as he pottered around the flat doing the thousand things he did to occupy his over-active mind. Another night Sherlock watched John sleep and he was grim because John was in a hospital bed, heavily bandaged and sedated as well. There were no snores this night, John’s sleep was unnaturally heavy and Sherlock didn’t like it a bit, watching over the soldier with intensity to be sure he caught any potential problem before it could grow dire. That night made Sherlock feel helpless and protective in a way he’d never experienced before and he wondered at the sensation in his chest.

When John was finally allowed home he couldn’t move around very much so Sherlock installed the protesting doctor in his own bedroom, close to the loo, and easily accessible to both Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson who took care of him while both his broken legs healed, and his sprained ribs mended. He’d had minor surgery too so his abdomen was very tender, Sherlock had long since learned to ignore John’s words and examined him critically to ensure the doctor was healing properly and not pushing himself faster than was advisable.

John understandably got bored so bit at a time Sherlock moved the entertainments they had into his bedroom. The TV was installed on the bureau, John received a hospital bed table as a gag gift from the other doctors at the clinic which came in useful to hold his laptop and various other things Sherlock procured to entertain the often grouchy soldier. Sherlock dug out all the childish games he normally tortured Mycroft with, played cards, read out case-file, played his violin, and generally catered to John hand and foot during his entire convalescence.

The part that made it worthwhile for Sherlock were those quiet times when John would fall into slumber, his soft snore buzzing out and reassuring the taller man that his best friend was still with him. Only then could Sherlock relax enough to leave John’s side and move about to do his experiments or work on cases via the pictures or evidence Lestrade sent to the flat. Sherlock wasn’t going to leave John with anyone except Mrs. Hudson who was only called over when Sherlock needed to shower or otherwise wasn’t immediately available to assist John.

Sherlock slept in John’s bed. He liked it very much. John’s pillow was soft and yielding, and it smelled richly of John’s unique fragrance. When he did go to bed he wrapped himself in John’s blankets and snuggled down into the center of John’s bed, his face planted into the pillow so he could breathe in the calming scent of the good doctor all through the night. Still, John did heal eventually and at long last, after weeks of living in each other’s space John was well enough to manage the stairs and return to his own bed.

Sherlock couldn’t sleep. His bed smelled marvellously of John but it wasn’t relaxing the way it had been when Sherlock had slept in John’s bed! What was different? He tossed and turned and eventually gave up sleeping as a bad job. He was just considering making a cup of tea when he heard John call softly from up in his room, “Yes?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Me either.”

“Come keep me company. It’s boring.” It was boring. There was nothing to do and John could only manage the stairs a bit. Sherlock went up and John was stretched out on his bed looking tired and grouchy once again, “I hate this.”

“I know John, what can I do to help?”

“I don’t know. Tell me about that case you were working on.” Sherlock sat on the edge of John’s bed and began to explain the case from the beginning. It was chilly so he stuck his feet under the edge of John’s blanket, and eventually tugged John’s robe over to cover his knees. He was just getting to the part of the case where Sherlock had thought he’d gotten it all wrong when John flipped back the edge of his quilt, “You’re turning blue, just get in here before you freeze solid.”

Sherlock didn’t realize he was shivering until he was lying beside John who radiated heat like a furnace, “Oh god you’re so warm.”

“Fuck you are cold! Why didn’t you tell me you were so cold, come here, warm up a bit.” John sounded concerned and a little angry that Sherlock wasn’t watching out for himself. Sherlock wiggled as close as he could, mindful of the casts on John’s leg but getting as much of his upper body against John as he could. “Go on, tell me the rest.” John’s voice was sleepy again and Sherlock liked the way it felt to have John’s arm pillow his head, and how good John smelled in person, so much better than his sheets or pillows. Closing his eyes Sherlock continued his tale, hoping John would fall asleep and get the rest he so urgently needed to heal.

He woke up late in the morning, his head on John’s chest, John’s fingers carding slowly through his curls. Sherlock was warm and comfortable so he kept his eyes closed and let John continue until the doctor finally realized Sherlock was no longer asleep, “Breakfast?” asked the doctor hopefully.

“Alright.” said Sherlock, his voice deep with sleep and a tiny bit rough. He felt John’s heart beat a tiny bit faster as he pushed away from his chest. Sherlock helped John to the loo before going to get the tea going and to rifle through the fridge for something edible. John had two crutches now and made his way awkwardly from the bathroom to the kitchen where Sherlock had to maneuver him safely into a chair, “Scramble?”

They didn’t talk about sleeping together. John got better and when his casts were finally removed he was under medical orders to act his age and not jump from moving vehicles anymore, or for at least another six weeks. Both men were grateful for his returned mobility and immediately took a case from the Yard. After so long being inactive John got tired easily and Sherlock resumed his picture collection.

John slept on a stack of chairs. Once he slept on a roll of fencing wire. Another time he made himself very comfortable on a bale of root vegetables, staying out for nearly three hours while Sherlock worked. One day John disappeared from Sherlock’s side and Sherlock never stopped looking for his soldier, stopping only when absolutely necessary for five days straight until Lestrade was weaving around in exhaustion even though he’d gone home at least three times, while Donovan tried to steal short naps in the back of various police vehicles, and even Mycroft who had stepped in to help without being asked tried to urge Sherlock to rest. He could not. Not until he found John.

John had been held captive by a group of criminals so stupid they’d forgotten to send off their ransom message and had been waiting for a reply. Still they were smart enough to lock John in an old meat locker with some holes drilled into it to provide air and nothing else. If one of them hadn’t sent of a demand for an answer no one would have ever known where to find John. Once again the doctor was hospitalized, this time for malnutrition and dehydration, and Mycroft arranged for a private room so Sherlock could finally get some sleep. He was given his own hospital bed which he set up so he could see John easily.

John signed himself out the very next morning after breakfast, and made Sherlock bring him back to 221 B to finish recuperating. “I can’t sleep in that hospital, not right now. Do you mind?” John nodded his head wearily toward Sherlock’s room.

“Not at all John, I can take your room again.” John had been limping toward Sherlock’s room but paused, “Or I can stay with you if that’s what you wish.”

John nodded and didn’t say another thing so neither did Sherlock. He helped John into his pajamas and got himself cleaned up and ready for bed. John was already asleep when Sherlock came back so he let himself under the duvet carefully and was out nearly before his head hit the pillow. Both men slept the entire day away and didn’t wake up until late in the afternoon and only because Mrs. Hudson was tapping at Sherlock’s bedroom door, “Wake up Sherlock! You have company.” she trilled before peeking her head in. Her eyes were twinkling as she took in John’s sleepy gaze and Sherlock’s rumpled pajamas, “I’ll make some tea shall I?”

“Can we trouble you for breakfast?” asked John hopefully. He had a lot of meals to catch up on.

“It’s already on the table dear, up you get.” Mrs. Hudson didn’t say another word, merely shutting the door firmly behind her.

Lestrade was there and he needed to get John’s statement. Sherlock made him wait until John was done eating, not wanting to have him disturbed before he completed his much needed meal. Sherlock went to the living room to grab his laptop and as he came back he heard Lestrade ask John softly, “So you two are together now?”

“According to all the rumors we’ve been together the whole time. What does it matter?” John was testy.

“I guess it doesn’t.” said Lestrade and dropped it as Sherlock came back into the kitchen. It took a couple of days for John to get his strength back but soon after he was pounding down dark alleys behind Sherlock as they chased their latest suspect. John was laughing and having the time of his life. The ride home was long and John fell asleep against Sherlock who shuffled himself around until he could hold John easily, letting the smaller man rest his head in the crook of Sherlock’s neck. It was possibly the nicest experience of Sherlock’s life.

After that John always seemed to be touching Sherlock somehow while he slept during cases. Sometimes it was a foot reached out to touch Sherlock’s shoe or ankle, sometimes it was his back pressed to Sherlock’s as they sat side by side, and there was a growing number of instances when John would rest his head on Sherlock’s lap and fall asleep with a small smile. Sherlock would card his fingers absently through John’s short neat hair as he thought and enjoyed the heavy press of John’s head against his legs.

One night they were in a museum and John was sleeping on empty plinth while Sherlock sat cross-legged beside him. Sherlock had a flash of inspiration and suddenly rearranged the clues in his mind, “John, I’ve got it!”

John woke up nearly instantly, “What? Okay, where to.”

Sherlock was excited and wasn’t thinking clearly. He pulled John up with him as he stood, bent down and kissed John briefly before racing off to get a taxi. It wasn’t until hours later after Sherlock had Lestrade arrest one of the curators for smuggling that he realized what he’d done.

He’d kissed John.

Why?

John hadn’t complained or remarked on it.

Why?

Sherlock was almost reluctant to go home, regretting the ease with which he flagged a taxi, and worried a bit the entire way with John by his side, awake but resting easy, his eyes on the street outside his window.

When they were finally back at the flat Sherlock didn’t know what to do. John let him flutter around for a few minutes before shaking his head and walking over to the detective, “Here.” said John who pulled Sherlock’s head down and kissed him so thoroughly that Sherlock had a difficult time standing afterward, “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

“Since this afternoon?” ventured Sherlock with a bit of a breathless voice. His body was clamoring for more and Sherlock tried to quiet it.

“For years Sherlock, for years, now that you know would you mind if we played a bit of catch-up?” John leaned forward and whispered in Sherlock’s ear and the detective’s smile grew broad and nearly as naughty as the doctor’s, “I figure you’re a curious bloke, so?”

“My dear John. If you think you’ve intimidated me with your ideas you are sorely mistaken. What I lack in practical experience I more than make up for in esoteric knowledge and perfect recall.” Sherlock bent down and caught John in a steamy kiss the left no questions about what was going to happen next, “If I make you mine tonight I’m keeping you forever.”

“And if I make you mine?”

“Same deal.”

“Well alright then.” and that’s what they did. From then on their bed was used for more recreational purposes and sleep happened wherever it was necessary. They never confirmed or denied their relationship to anyone but those who were closest knew very well that the two of them were just as they always had been, completely devoted to one another.

 


End file.
